


Jimmy Carter was a Peanut Farmer

by accol



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Boyfriends, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Multi, OT4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accol/pseuds/accol
Summary: Brad just needs a little persuasion to remember that peanut butter is yummy.





	Jimmy Carter was a Peanut Farmer

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks @mrsridcully for a kick to write some GK again! Originally posted at my Tumblr.

“Walt, you’re allergic to this,” Brad says, unpacking one of the sacks of groceries Walt just brought in from the truck.  Brad said once that he didn’t miss anything from home when he was deployed, but in retrospect and given the current mountain of food on the kitchen counter, he could admit that grocery stores were better than the PX.  He did miss actual food.

Peanut butter, however, was not actual food.  The sadistic fucks who packaged MREs had seen to that.

Walt shoves the jar of white chocolate peanut butter deeper into Brad’s hand.  “ _You’re_  not allergic, and the lady at Trader Joe’s said this is–” Walt finger quotes and raises the pitch of his voice, “ _to die for_.”

“Eating this shit would make me feel like I was dying.”

Walt rolled his eyes and, later, made Brad some ants on a log with it.  

 

++++

 

“Walt said you didn’t love his thoughtful and therapeutic gift yesterday.  I figure it’s because you’re so tall that there’s not enough oxygen up there for you to use your fucking logic and not be an asshole.”

“Ray, I ate celery with that goddamn monstrosity oozing out of it.  I fulfilled my role here.”

“No.”  Ray puts his hands on his hips, screws up his face, and makes an exaggerated motion that says Brad is fucking  _wrong_.  “Peanut butter is a sweet gift that God gave to America.  George Washington Carver didn’t invent 300 ways to eat peanuts just for you to reject a part of our national history.  Jimmy Carter was a peanut farmer, Brad.  You have to love the lowly peanut.”

“Did you sneak out and buy Ripped Fuel after Nate explicitly told you to give it a rest?”

Ray gasps dramatically.  “I do not disobey the orders of superior officers.”

Brad raises his eyebrows.

“Ok, but the grooming standard is bullshit and you know it is.  And you are clearly demonstrating signs of PTSD.”

“I don’t have PTSD, Ray.  I was cleared just like we all were.”

“Peanut buTTer Scorn Disease,” Ray says, spitting the T’s out so that a fine mist sprays Brad’s face.

 

++++

 

The next day, Brad finds a jar of Nutella next to the coffee pot with a Post-It stuck to the lid.  Walt’s and Ray’s handwriting scrawls across it.

_This is hazelnuts with chocolate.  Totally a gateway to reigniting your patriotic love for nuts._

 

++++

 

“I was wondering when they’d send you,” Brad says, not even looking up from his book.

“Ray threatened to come out here and show you ‘the real grooming standard,’ and that frankly sounded like a mess.”

“Do I want to know?”

Nate chuckles.  “Since dating all of us was  _your_ idea, I think you’re obligated to carry the burden of this mental image, yes.  Ray could show you the schematic he drew.  It’s very… detailed.”

Brad leans his head back on the couch and puts his book over his face in exasperation.

The grin in Nate’s voice is obvious.  “Imagine Ray entirely coated in–”

From the bedroom, Ray yells, “Deez nuts, Brad.  DEEZ PEANUT BUTTER NUTS.”


End file.
